Turn Me On
by ImagineI
Summary: A one-shot of Edward and Bella from Twilight, inspired by the song 'Turn Me On' by Norah Jones. Set in between New Moon and Eclipse. Please read and review :


**(Story below song lyrics)**

_Turn Me On_- Norah Jones ~ _Edward & Bella_, Twilight

_Like a flower waiting to bloom _

_Like a lightbulb in a dark room _

_I'm just sitting here waiting for you _

_To come home and turn me on _

_Like the desert waiting for the rain _

_Like a school kid waiting for the spring _

_I'm just sitting here waiting for you _

_To come on home and turn me on _

_My poor heart, it's been so dark since you been gone _

_After all, you're the one who turns me off _

_You're the only one who can turn me back on _

_My hi-fi's waiting for a new tune _

_The glass is waiting for some fresh ice cubes _

_I'm just sitting here waiting for you _

_To come on home and turn me on _

_Turn me on_

/watch?v=mHff55AeEAQ_ Link to song on YouTube. (put after .com)  
_

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or plot lines from Stephanie Meyer's Twilight saga nor do I own Norah Jones' song Turn Me On.

This is set between New Moon and Eclipse.

* * *

I sat on the window ledge of Edward's room, watching the stars peek out from behind their onyx canopy. The fields ahead had been painted a with a blae gloom, the edging forest dark and shadowy. High, high above the moon sat with a luminous grace, almost as white as Edward's skin…

The thought of him, of where he could be now… of how much longer it would be until he came back, set me thinking on a whole different track.

Of his skin, his marble toned torso… his eyes, on me… those molten butterscotch pools so intense, so set on whatever target was in front of him. I always felt so honoured to have those eyes on me and didn't begrudge him his smile as I blushed. Whatever reaction of mine was his. All his.

I swallowed and looked out at the forest ahead, the definition of the trees slightly blurred by the small amount of rain now pattering on the window. Was he there, watching me? I bit my lip at the thought, subconsciously and without an agenda to entice him… but I wanted to. I mean, really, really wanted to.

We'd kissed and to be honest to ask any more than that, to ask any more than those touches of bliss that punctuated the otherwise grey, rainy life of Forks… well, I felt like a spoilt kid whining for more… more sunlight like Edward's rays.

He'd told me he wanted to, in so many words. Said he felt like he was being jockeyed… but all of the other riders, if I could use that term without too much innuendo, were simply not up for the race. He sped by like a streak of fire whilst the others dragged behind…

Don't get me wrong, Mike and Eric, they weren't unattractive and it wasn't only the aesthetic things that got my heart racing.

Edward's capacity to care, even if it was sometimes suffocating… his determination to learn, his thirst- most of the time quite literally- for my company… actually wanting to know what I thought… his ability to debate with me instead of cringing at my look on things… God, they were only an inch of the list of things I…

Loved.

He shone up a day like a lightbulb in a dingy prison cell. If he hadn't come into my life then I knew I would be more than happy with my share; Charlie loved me and knew me, knew how to treat me and vice versa. I had a Mom who would do pretty much anything for me. I had friends, even if they were a tad fair-weather and a lifestyle that didn't compromise too much of my leisure.

But who would want an apple when the choice is non-fattening apple crumble?

Sure, the apple's crunchy, it's juicy, and it's better for your body, better for your immune sys-

"What are we pondering this time? Looks like a good one."

"Damn! Don't do that!" I cried out, turning round on the window seat to scorn the suddenly arrived Edward. But one look at that smirk, the faint lines on either side of those warm eyes… and I lacked the power.

I pursed my lips, trying to wipe away that smile fighting the corners of my mouth and brought my knees up to my chest and looked up at him.

"Sorry, didn't want to interrupt the session. I know it can be very annoying when someone interrupts your train of thought."

"You do that without making me leap out of my skin."

"Oh," he said, quietly, kneeling down to eye level with me. His bronze hair was jeweled with droplets of rain, skin ashen yet not sickly and smooth to the eye… smooth to the touch as I found out when I put my hand to his cheek as he looked down.

"It's not a bad thing, it just freaks me out a little." I knew, as soon as I had said it that I should not have. I even heard his minute gulp and felt his skin cool even cooler. "Not that I think you're a, or that you… I…" I tried to come up with a finite explanation for my choice of wording- not half as well thought out or intricate as Edward's normally was- but he stopped me with the faintest touch of a finger to my lips before I could blurt out another '_Bella-ism_' as Jacob liked to call it.

"It's natural that an angel so peaceful would be stunned by an old man's cessation of her meditation."

I felt my eyebrows pull together and my mouth open slightly as I watched his face change to a masterpiece beauty Michelangelo would spend decades trying to perfect. His eyes fixed on my mouth for the quickest of seconds before he dropped his finger and looked into my eyes.

"You're not an old man, you're immortal," I tried to reply with some volume and I blinked before my eyes watered with my staring in awe at him. "There's a difference."

"If I have youth it is the verve you emanate." I smiled naturally at his modesty and ruffled his hair, mussing it up just enough so that he didn't look too much like a wet cat.

"What was for supper, then?" I asked, teasingly.

"Mountain lion," he replied, one eyebrow raised, his smile still ever-present on his calm face. I tried very hard not to comment on the slight cannibalism of eating something so like oneself. He would probably shrug off the compliment with a deprecation and give the mountain lion the throne.

"There it is again," he whispered, stroking under one of my eyes so very faintly and yet my whole body moved an inch further towards him, towards the subconscious and conscious fascination my entirety had with this man.

"There what is again?"

"You get that look quite often… a sort of… dreamy quality, irises expanded… so like a flower. What can you be thinking about?" He asked, moving forward slowly and surveying my eyes from every angle.

"You. Always you," I replied, closing my eyes and enjoying his proximity, the musky sweet smell, the tingle on my cheek as his hair brushed past me. My hands balled into fists as he kissed my ear and I'm sure he gained much pleasure by seeing the tips turn red.

For a second he was gone but before I opened my eyes in dismay he was back in front of me and there was soft piano music filling the room. It was beautiful and romantic but I knew by the scarcity of a certain, unattainable finesse that this was not one of Edward's compositions.

I felt his breath warm the tip of my nose and opened my eyes slowly, lost in a butterfly's patterned copper wing- so similar to one were his eyes. His lips touched the end of my nose and then his hand, carved from the finest marble known to this Earth, I'm sure, appeared centimetres from my face.

"Dance with me, fiancé?" he requested, old-time lilt in his voice. I felt too drab, in my black sweats and blue Ramones T-shirt to dance with him in his black trousers and white shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal his ivory forearms. It amazed me that his outfit was not scuffed with dirt from his hunt.

He blinked and cocked his head to the side then floated forward and unballed my hands, laying them softly back in my lap.

A comic thought crossed his face as he looked up at me, teasing.

"Chicken?"

"I'd rather not break a limb," I countered, stroking down the sides of his right middle finger. To my surprise he shuddered gently and I looked up at his face to see if I'd felt that correctly.

We were stuck in a limbo there for a few moments, like we often were. He managed to come to the surface of the reverie before I did and before I could protest, he had me up in his arms… princess style and everything.

It was then that the waves hit me; the waves of panic, the waves of remembrance and fear. The tears dribbled down my cheeks before I could hide the emotions from him.

He was motionless for a few seconds as I sobbed into his shoulder and blessedly he understood what was going on straight away. Holding me securely with one arm he began to stroke my hair out of my face and behind my ears.

"Shh," he soothed, holding me to him firmly. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." The tears just kept on coming. I scrunched the collar of his shirt in my hand and tried to stop being such a baby… but I was just too God damn scared.

I was in his embrace on the bed in a flash and his hands were stroking me, holding me to his chest with the care and fierceness only one in love can achieve.

It got to me every now and then that he might disappear again, like he had months ago. The brilliance and sacredness of each moment with him made these times even darker as every moment with Edward was better than the last.

He curled into my body, mouth behind my ear and both arms wrapped around my back, his legs over mine.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed into my hair, twirling strands around his fingers. The iciness of his body helped to calm me down and he felt when I began to relax, when my shoulders untensed and my hold on him loosened a little.

He drew his head back to look into my eyes softly, sleepily and began to sing, low and tranquil, making our little world a private, dulcet place.

"After all, you're the one who turns me off. You're the only one who can turn me back on."

I hiccupped as my hand touched the lowest part of his throat and he smiled analgesically.

"My hi-fi's waiting for a new tune," he sang even quieter. "The glass is waiting-" he kissed my forehead- "for some fresh ice cubes." He took a deep breath, seemingly in the same sort of grieving shock as me and tucked my hair behind my ear, stroking it down my shoulder and over my collarbone, his eyes following his fingers. "I'm just sitting here, waiting for you to come on home and turn me on." As Norah Jones sang the last line again Edward touched his forehead to mine and carressed the side of my body, nuzzling into the crook of my neck. The CD stopped and we were left with the pitter-patter of the rain as we recovered from our catharses.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. He shook his hand against my shoulder and, uncharacteristically, allowed the full weight of his head rest on me. I reached up, at this rare opportunity, and ran my fingers through his hair.

"Nothing to be sorry for."

We were quiet for a while, content with the natural sounds of one another.

As I sank into a state of complete relaxation, I felt more than heard him whisper,

"You are the only one who can turn me back on."

I hoped he knew the feeling was reciprocated as I didn't have the energy to ditto his reply. I hugged him tightly to me, around his shoulders, instead and eased into an ingenuous slumber.


End file.
